Fiends

    Taking her hand, he led her into the kitchen. On the counter, the pot of coffee was ready. On the table, a heaping platter of doughnuts, including four maple bars, waited. In the corner, smiling, staring at Barbara as she entered, stood Joyce.

    Her hair was done up in a ponytail. She wore a fresh white blouse. The bra beneath it, faintly visible through the thin fabric, was black. Her blouse was tucked neatly into the elastic waistband of her glossy blue shorts. She wore white socks and blue L.A. Gear athletic shoes.

    ‘You dressed her,’ Barbara muttered.

    Darren grinned. ‘She didn’t dress herself.’

    ‘Why?’

    ‘Isn’t that obvious?’ He laughed softly and picked up the coffee pot.

    ‘I mean, why did you dress her?’

    ‘Oh. Well, it wouldn’t be right for her to go around all day in her nightgown.’ He filled the mugs with coffee and set them on the table. He pulled out a chair for Barbara.

    ‘I’ll sit over here,’ she said. And took the chair on the opposite side of the table. So she wouldn’t have her back to Joyce. So she could keep an eye on her.

    Darren sat down in the chair he’d intended for Barbara. He took a sip of coffee. ‘Actually, I did keep Joyce in her bathrobe for a while, at first. I thought to myself, why bother putting clothes on her? It got depressing, though. There she was, day and night, standing around in her robe. It made her seem… oh, I don’t know, like an invalid.’

    Tempted to make a remark, Barbara bit into a maple bar instead.

    ‘So then I decided to start dressing her up. Off with that tired old bathrobe, on with… well, whatever the occasion demanded. Nightwear at night, casual things for daytime wear, one of her nifty little bikinis for poolside… she always liked to join me out by the pool, though she wasn’t much for swimming. For more formal occasions - a birthday, Thanksgiving, that sort of thing - a lovely evening gown. Whatever seemed right.’ Smiling, he bit into a jelly doughnut.

    ‘Like having a life-size Barbie doll.’

    ‘You’re my Barbie doll,’ he said, his voice muffled by doughnut, white powder and red jelly on his lips. ‘She’s my Joycie doll.’

    Joyce smiled at the top of Barbara’s head.

    ‘Isn’t it… difficult to dress her? I mean, she’s stiff, isn’t she?’

    ‘Oh, we manage. Some outfits are trickier to get on her than others, but we make do the best we can.’

    Barbara started to take another bite of maple bar. But it would be a muddy lump in her mouth like the first one, and tough to swallow. She set down the bar and drank some coffee.

    ‘Is something wrong with your maple bar?’

    ‘It’s fine,’ she muttered.

    Frowning with concern, he leaned forward slightly. ‘Is it Joyce?’

    ‘Of course it’s Joyce. What do you think?’

    ‘We went through all this last night, darling. I thought you understood.’

    ‘My God, you dress her up like she’s real'

    ‘She is real.’

    ‘But she’s dead!. You cart her around from room to room. You dress her up You put a bra on her. Probably panties too, for all I know.’

    ‘Would you prefer her without panties?’ he asked. Raising his eyebrows, smiling slightly, he bit again into his doughnut.

    ‘I’d prefer her gone!'

    Nodding, he chewed for a while. He swallowed. He sipped his coffee. ‘You’ll get used to her. Once you’ve gotten to know her better, I’m sure you’ll…’

    ‘I want her out of here.’

    ‘Out of the kitchen?’

    ‘Out of the house. Preferably in a fucking graveyard}.’

    ‘Oh, dear. You are upset.' The look of sorrow on Darren’s face made her heart ache for him.

    ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I am. I love you so much. But Joyce…’

    ‘She frightens you, doesn’t she?’

    Barbara nodded.

    ‘She doesn’t bite, you know.’

    ‘I know.’

    ‘She doesn’t do anything.’

    ‘She looks at me.’

    ‘They’re only glass eyes,’ Darren explained gendy.

    ‘They’re not hers?’

    ‘Hers didn’t fare well in the… process. But if they bother you… Back in a sec.’ He pushed himself away from the table and hurried from the kitchen.

***

 While he was gone, Barbara studied Joyce’s face. Glass eyes. They sure looked real. Too real, too bright and aware. Did it make things any better, knowing they were fake? For a few moments, she thought so.

    They’re not Joyce.

    They’re not her dead eyes. Nothing much more than a couple of shiny marbles poked into her sockets.

    Sockets.

    The real Joyce hasn’t got eyes. Were they gouged out? Popped? Dragged out with forceps? Did they just shrivel away in the ‘process’ and fall out?

    Those beautiful, lively eyes gazing at the top of Barbara’s head were pieces of glass stuck into pits.

    Do they ever fall out?

    Does Darren take them out lovingly, from time to time, and polish them up?

    Barbara stared at Joyce. No eyes. God! Those aren’t her eyes. They’re covers. Hatches put there to conceal a pair of hideous cavities.

    Cringing, she looked away. Thanks for telling me, Darren. Thanks a lot.

    ‘Here we go,’ he said, bustling into the kitchen. ‘This’ll be just what the doctor ordered.’ He kissed the top of Barbara’s head, then hurried around the table.

    She looked up in time to watch him slide sunglasses onto Joyce’s face. They were much like those worn by the Highway Patrolman who’d stopped Barbara last month for making an unsafe lane change on the Santa Monica Freeway. Wire rims, teardrop shaped lenses with silver reflective surfaces.

    ‘How’s that?’ Darren asked. Stepping away, he admired the effect. ‘Make her look rather dashing, don’t you think?’

    Now I can’t tell where she’s looking, Barbara thought. But she didn’t want to hurt Darren’s feelings. He was trying to help. ‘That’s a lot better.’

    Maybe it is better, she told herself. Now, at least, her eyes are out

    of sight. Maybe I can forget about them. Forget they aren’t eyes, just socket hiders.

    Darren sat at the table, looking pleased with himself. ‘For every problem, there’s a solution.’

    ‘Guess so,’ Barbara said. She picked up her maple bar and forced herself to eat it.

    When Darren asked how she would like to spend the day, she suggested going to the beach. ‘Fabulous idea,’ he blurted. ‘It’ll be like we’re still on our honeymoon.’

    ‘Just the two of us, right?’

    ‘Of course.’

    ‘You don’t want to take her along?’

    ‘Joyce’ll be fine right here.’ He winked. ‘She’s really pretty much a home body.’